


Play Me A Memory

by WritingToKeepMySanity



Series: piano man au [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Bartender!Katherine, F/M, Gen, M/M, Piano man au, Piano player!Jack, Some Cursing, let's be real, mostly from Spot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-07-27 11:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16217936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingToKeepMySanity/pseuds/WritingToKeepMySanity
Summary: "Son can you play me a memory? / I'm not really sure how it goes / But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete / When I wore a younger man's clothes"Sometimes things don't work out the way you think they will.But they work out the way you need them to.





	1. The One With the New Piano Player

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [click here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9dQ8yygs0Ys) to "set the mood", as it were ;)

_Jack bounced the ball against the wall from his bed, catching it and throwing it again. Crutchie pushed the door open and Spot caught the ball before it could bounce back to Jack._

_“‘Ay!” Jack protested, sitting up indignantly. “Give it, Conlon.”_

_Spot examined the ball a second before tightening his grip on it. “Nah. ‘m gonna keep it.”_

_“Ass.”_

_“Miss Medda says ya gotta stop hittin’ the wall,” Crutchie explained, sitting on the edge of Jack’s bed. “It’ll mark.”_

_Jack rolled his eyes. “What’s she gonna do? Ground me again? ‘m already doin’ two months.”_

_Crutchie poked him with his crutch. “Ya shouldn’t’ve snuck out Jackie, that’s on you.”_

_“Spot snuck out too!” Jack pointed out, definitely not pouting._

_Spot threw the ball at his head. “I didn’t get caught, Jackass. Don’t do the crime if ya can’t do the time.”_

_Jack threw the ball back, and Spot ducked, causing the ball to smack against the wall again. It rolled under the bed, and from downstairs Medda hollered, “Boys, if I hear that ball one more time, all three’a you’re cleaning out the_ entire _garage this Saturday, got it?”_

_“Sorry, Medda,” the boys chorused._

~*~

 

Katherine sighed as she pushed open the back door, using her hip to hold the door open as she twisted her hair up into a ponytail.

“Hey Medda, how’s everything?” she asked as she past the office, leaning in the doorway a moment.

“Evenin’ sugar,” Medda said, looking up over her computer. “Can’t complain. How’re you? Oh, have you heard from the publishers?”

Heaving a sigh, Katherine shook her head. “Not yet. Maybe soon, it’s only been… a month, so…” She raised her hand with her fingers crossed half-heartedly.

“Keep ya head up, honey, those publishers are crazy if they turn you down.”She half-smiled. “Thanks, Miss Medda. I’m going to go set up now, need anything back here?”

Waving a hand, Medda said, “I’m fine, sweetheart, go on.”

Pushing off the doorframe, Katherine made her way towards the front of the building, where the bar was.

She’d been working here since college, only about… seven years. Sighing again, she started taking chairs off the tables, setting them on the floor.

Katherine was grateful for the job Medda’d given her all those years ago, truly she was, she just… never imagined her life going this way. She’d been out of school six, almost seven, years, and if someone had told Six-Years-Ago her that she would still be working her college job…

She—frankly—wouldn’t have believed them.

It’d been seven years, dozens of rejection letters, and Katherine couldn’t give up on writing, she loved it far too much, had too many stories to tell, but rejection after rejection had really started weighing on her.

She allowed herself to wallow in those thoughts as she took down the rest of the chairs, making her way across the room.

There was a rattling on the doors before someone started knocking on the glass, startling her out of her thoughts. Setting down the chair she’d just lifted off the table, Katherine moved so she was visible to the guy outside and pointed to the sign on the door.

“We’re not open yet. Come back in a couple hours,” she called.

Squinting, he cupped his hands around his eyes to peer in. “I know Medda!” he yelled back.

 _And?_ Katherine thought, raising an eyebrow. “Congratulations,” she said, giving him a thumbs-up before turning away.

“No, wait!” He started knocking again, and she wondered if she would have to call the cops so early in the evening. “‘m Jack? The new piano player?”

“Piano player?” Katherine muttered to herself. They had a piano in the bar, but it remained largely unplayed except Race when he’d had a couple drinks, and Spot, occasionally, when she and he opened together. But they’d never had an “official” piano player.

She held up a finger to the guy. “Hold on!” Turning to the office, she called back, “Miss Medda? There’s someone here saying he’s the new piano player?”

Katherine heard shuffling from the office before Medda emerged in a blur of pink and turquoise floral print.

“Jack Kelly, man of mystery!” Katherine took a step back to avoid colliding with Hurricane Medda as she quickly unlocked the doors, allowing the guy—who didn’t look much older than her—on the other side to enter, immediately engulfing him in a hug. “How’ve you been, sugar?”

“Aw, you know me, Miss Medda, ‘m always alright,” he grinned, squeezing her back.

She let go of him, only to smack his arm. “You said you wouldn’t be back in New York for another _week_ , where do you get off lyin’ to Medda?”

Jack shrugged sheepishly. “I like to make an entrance?”

“Ohhh, if I didn’t love you, boy…” She shook her head at him, before turning to Katherine, remembering she was there. “Oh! Katherine, this is my godson, Jack. He’s gonna be playin’ piano for us.”

Jack gave her an appreciative look, and Katherine gave Medda a disbelieving one. “Can he play?” she asked, ignoring the newcomer.

He scoffed. “Can I play? I’d be happy ta play somethin’ for ya personally.”

“Yeah, okay…” Katherine muttered as he made his way to the piano, sitting down and making a show of cracking his knuckles. She winced at the harsh popping as he lifted the fallboard.

He pressed the keys gently, getting a feel for the piano a moment, before playing something upbeat and peppy and… Familiar?

_I just wanna tell you how I’m feeling… Gotta make you understand…_

She clapped a hand over her mouth at the sudden laugh that bubbled up. “Oh my _god_ , that meme’s like ten years old. _That’s_ what you know how to play from memory?”

He shrugged, an amused glint in his eye. “Promised a friend I’d learn it f’r him someday. Just kinda stuck. So,” he stood from the piano. “Did I pass ya test, Miss Priss?”

Katherine rolled her eyes, amusement gone at the nickname. He’d been here for five minutes, ogled her, played Rick Astley and _he_ was judging her? “Medda already gave you the job,” she said, a touch coolly. “I just asked a question.”

“So did I,” he shot back.

She lifted her chin just a touch, not backing down. She’d been working in a bar for seven years—cocky bastards didn’t throw her anymore.

A beat passed and Katherine raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to break first.

Jack narrowed his eyes at her, like he was waiting for her to reveal something to him.

_As if._

Medda, either not noticing, or—more likely—to dispel, the tension, waved a hand towards Jack. “Jack, why don’t you play some more while we get opened up?”

His shoulders relaxed, and he turned to Medda, an easy smile on his face that didn’t meet his eyes. “Sure, Miss Medda, but I’m gonna need some sheet music.”

“You can go on into my office and use the computer if you need it—or I have some old music books back there, might find somethin’.”

He disappeared into Medda’s office and Katherine shook her head as she round the counter to go behind the bar.

As much of a jackass as he was acting, Race would _love_ this guy.

Spot pushed open the door leading in from the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he did. “‘Ay, Kathy, what’s new?”

Reaching under the counter for a knife, Katherine said, “Nothing with me. Did you sharpen these last night?”

“Yeah, afta’ I closed.”

She gave him a look, pointing the knife slightly at him. “ _Really_ sharpen them or leave them out on the counter while you made out with Race again?”

Spot shoved her as he passed by, making her laugh. “That was _once_ —”

“—a week,” she finished with a smirk.

Hip-checking her again, he rolled his eyes. “You’s just jealous ‘cause ‘m gettin’ laid an’ you ain’t.”

“Oh sure,” Katherine agreed sarcastically. “Racetrack Higgins. I’m _really_ jealous of that.”

Medda came in then, interrupting them. “Sean, Katherine, who’s closing tonight?”

“Spot’s closing this week,” Katherine said, tying her apron around her waist.

“‘Cept Thursday,” Spot corrected, and she nodded in agreement.

Medda gave him a knowing look. “Ohhh, that’s right, it’s the big date night. You finally gonna put a ring on Anthony?”

Katherine raised an eyebrow. “You have _met_ Spot, right?”

Spot scoffed, smacking her with a dishrag. “As it happens, ‘m waitin’.”

“On what?” Medda asked, tilting her head, an amused glint in her eyes.

“To grow a pair,” Katherine muttered, ducking as Spot threw a cherry at her head and Medda laughed.

“Kathy, I neva’ liked ya,” Spot muttered. “‘m _waitin’_ ‘til _he_ asks me.”

Katherine gave him a deadpan look. “You will be waiting until the end of time, I guarantee.”

He rolled his eyes. “‘m gonna go get the ice.” Spot disappeared into the kitchen and Katherine rolled her eyes again.

From the door leading from Medda’s office, Jack emerged, holding a stack of papers and sitting down at the piano. He pressed the keys gingerly, wincing a little. “Medda, ya know the piano’s outta tune?”

She waved a hand. “You say that every time.”

“‘Cause I mean it every time. It’s a hint, Miss Medda,” he joked, playing a handful of notes.

Medda’s face shifted from teasing to concern. “Will it be okay for you to start next week? I don't remember the last time I had it tuned...”

Jack shook his head. “Nah, s’fine, just needs a good tunin'. I’ll just come in an’ do it this weekend. Ain’t technically startin’ ‘til next week anyways. Charlie still have a kit?”

“I probably have one at home…” Medda trailed off, thinking a moment. “I’m pretty sure, I’ll bring it in, baby.”

“Sounds good, Miss Medda.” Jack played a quick set of notes, something that sounded suspiciously like…

“‘Shave and a Haircut’ _and_ 'Never Gonna Give You Up'?” Katherine asked, raising an eyebrow. “ _That_ really sets the mood.”

Jack just leaned back on the bench a little. “ _Oh,_ you’s wantin’ me ta set the mood, huh?”

Before Katherine could bother dignifying that with a response—or not, with her silence—Medda interrupted, leaning her arms against the bar. “Katherine, honey, can you come in this weekend, go over the books?”

Tilting her head, she thought a moment. “I can come in Sunday after brunch with Mom, does that work?”

“That sounds good, hon, then you’ll be takin’ over in the office for a few days while I go out of town, right?”

“Yeah, Finch is good to go back here, Spot’s been teaching him so I can run the office.”

“Thank ya, Katherine. If I didn’t have you here, I don’t know how I’d keep up with everything.”

“So you’s the one in charge?” Jack asked, interrupting them, folding his arm atop the piano and leaning his chin on them. “Huh. Beautiful, smart, independent—”

Katherine shook her head, cutting him off and resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s Medda’s place, everyone knows that.”

“Oh, honey, only thing I own’s the mortgage,” Medda said, waving a hand before asking, “Who’s working tonight again?”

Furrowing her brow, Katherine tried to remember the schedule she’d helped Medda put together. “Uhm, Smalls, Finch, Jenny, and Mush are waiting tonight, Kloppman’s back in the kitchen, and Mike and… Jake? Are in the back with him.”

“I thought it was Ike back there,” Spot said, lugging in a bucket of ice for the bar.

She shrugged. “It’s one of them, I can’t ever tell them apart.”

Medda shook her head, amused. “Alright, you two, think you can handle things while I go talk to suppliers?”

Katherine nodded. “We have it, Medda, don’t worry.”

“Give ‘em hell, Medda,” Spot chimed in.

Medda threw a dishrag at him. “Oh you… Alright!” She turned to go into her office. “You know where to find me if ya have any problems.” With that, she whirled back out of the room, causing Jack to laugh, reminding Katherine of his presence.

“Oh, Spot, that’s Jack, he’s the new piano player. Jack, Spot,” she introduced them, gesturing vaguely as she sliced the lemon in front of her. She slowly picked her head up when neither of them spoke, the air suddenly tense.

Spot’s shoulders were tense as he glared at Jack with a stare she only saw him use on guys being jerks at the bar, and Jack’s hands were curled into fists, a slightly sheepish, but determined, look on his face.

Neither backed down for a long moment.

“I’d cut the tension here if someone had sharpened these knives last night,” Katherine tried to joke, feeling uncomfortable with the way they glared at each other—it was far too familiar for two people who had just met.

Spot broke away first, to give her a deadpan look. “I already _toldja_ I sharpened ‘em last night.”

“Yeah, and I already _told you_ I don’t believe you.” Katherine shot back, grateful that the spell, or tension, or whatever was broken. But she couldn’t help but ask… “So you two know each other?”

Spot shrugged. “We go back.”

Jack huffed a laugh. “‘Go back’, we only lived together for six years,” he elaborated.

“Lived together—wait, Charlie? That’s our Charlie?” she asked Spot. She knew Spot and Crutchie had lived with Medda for a few years before and during college, but she couldn’t remember either of them mentioning a Jack living with them.

“Cool it, red, he was my Charlie first.” Jack’s words were light, teasing, almost, but his tone had an edge to it.

Katherine wrinkled her nose at the nickname, and almost said something when a new voice piped up behind her. “Ooh, don’t call her ‘Red’, she hates that. Plus it makes it less special when people call me Red.”

She turned to see Smalls, having just emerged from the kitchen, tying an apron around her waist. “Evening, Smalls.”

“Hey, Miss Katherine,” Smalls said, hugging her around the waist. 

Katherine groaned, even as she wrapped her arm around the younger girl’s shoulders. “Oh, god, Smalls, honey, don’t call me ‘Miss’, it makes me feel old.” Smalls just smirked, letting go of her to bump fists with Spot.

Shaking her head, Katherine asked, “How are you tonight, Smalls?”

Smalls shrugged. “Oh, you know, finals all week, runnin’ on pure coffee and _now_ I get to serve alcohol to guys who try to flirt with me, so,” she shrugged again. “Oh! _But_ , I did get my paper back—A minus! Thanks for proofreadin’ for me Kath.”

“Atta girl!” Katherine said, hugging her again. “Happy to help. Now, do you want to check the glasses or put out nuts?”

Smalls wrinkled her nose. “Nuts. Let Finch do glasses since he’s late—”

“Am not!” Finch barreled through the door. “Don’t’chu make me do glasses, Smalls!”

“Don’t be late, then!” she shot back.

“Jenny an’ Mush’re later’n me!”

“Yeah but I _like_ them—”

“Alright, children, figure it out amongst yourselves, we open in less than an hour.” Katherine waved a hand, shooing Finch and Smalls out from behind the bar.

“Ain’t it a fine life, Kathy?” Spot asked, snapping a towel at Finch as he walked past.

“Always,” she laughed, stretching her arms over her head. Swinging them back down, Katherine caught a glance at Jack, who had been—from what she could tell from twenty minutes of knowing him—uncharacteristically quiet through the whole exchange.

He sat at the piano, hands resting on his knees, watching them with a… wistful? look in his eyes, his lips pursed, like he was holding back something. He rubbed his thumb over his knuckle and caught her watching him. The look vanished quickly from his face and he shot her a grin that was more smirk than smile before he went back to his sheet music.

Katherine tilted her head.

Just _who_ was this Jack Kelly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I polish the bar glasses at work sometimes and they are a _pain_. really, polishing anything is pain but it beats running around and dealing with customers so...
> 
>  _daaammmmnn_ Disney, back at it again with another au!! ;) (i like outdated memes sue me)
> 
> I've wanted to write this since May, when I had my first recital and was completely distracted during one girl's song because I was too busy watching the accompanist play, but didn't start until about a month ago when some kid walked into the student union and started playing the piano in there, effectively breaking my writer's block!! and that's too much information, but, hey, you've learned to expect that by now, right?? ;)
> 
> I'm so excited to finally get this out there, I'd love to know your thoughts!! <3
> 
> NOTE: I know Liana Hunt has brown hair but there’s a picture of her as Smalls where it looks kinda reddish-brown to me, so I’ve always pictured Smalls with red hair, just a shade lighter than Kath’s :D


	2. The One With Billie Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I DO NOT CONDONE SMOKING THERE ARE MANY HEALTH HAZARDS TO SMOKING PLEASE DON'T START SMOKING**
> 
> [click at your own risk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=drG5lkYHIXI) for this chapter's song
> 
> Chapter dedicated to Red, who read the last chapter and replied "I love the au, but you're wrong" and proceeded to school me in piano knowledge... hopefully I've made it all right now ;)
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

_“You’re too young to be smoking,” Lucy reprimanded by way of greeting._

_Katherine made a face at her, snubbing out her cigarette in an empty flowerpot. “Then why’d you teach me how?” she shot back, holding a hand out so Lucy could help her up._

_Rolling her eyes and helping Katherine climb to her feet, Lucy said, “At least wait until everyone’s gone, Mom already noticed you were missing.”_

_Katherine half-turned to peer through the window at yet another lavish party they were supposed to be attending for some reason. “What’d you tell her?”_

_“That you went to fix your makeup—though, fair warning, she noticed Darcy was gone too, so she probably thinks it was code for something.”_

_Katherine groaned, tugging up the thin strap of her dress that had been slipping all night. “You literally have to be blind not to realize Darcy and Billy hook up at all these parties,” she groused. “And even then, you’d figure it out, why can’t she?”_

_Lucy laughed, slinging an arm over her shoulders. “Come inside before you get caught smoking, or Mom’ll have other problems besides your lack of love life.”_

 

~*~

 

Jack picked moodily at his food, and Davey just barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, exchanging a look with Crutchie, who shrugged a little.

“You’re the one who left for eight years,” Davey reminded him. “It’s not their fault they moved on.”

“Yeah, but it’s been _eight_ years,” Jack complained, stabbing harder than necessary at a piece of chicken. “You ain’t mad at me anymore, Crutchie ain’t.”

Davey sighed, rolling his neck. It was great, having Jack back in New York, really. Living across the country from his best friend had been difficult—Jack hadn’t even come home more than twice in the eight years he was gone.

“S'different for us, Jackie," Crutchie said. "Ya kept in touch with us.”

“I _tried_ keepin’ up with the other guys,” Jack said half-heartedly. “Not m’fault Spot hates me now.”

“Jack, it’s just…” Davey sighed again. “You leavin’ hurt. Especially since you didn’t tell anyone. Spot just… internalized it differently. You know he doesn't do 'feelings' well.”

He snorted. "Didn't have no problems with that new girl ya all like so much."

Crutchie and Davey shared a confused look, Crutchie mouthing, _new girl_? before asking, "Katherine?"

"Jack, she's a friend," Davey explained. "And maybe she showed up 'round the time you left, but she didn't replace you or anything."

Snorting, Jack shook his head. "Okay, but how the hell did she get in wit' the guys? Girl screams high-class, there's no way she just found ya."

"She and Spot had a class together, and he started bringin' her around when we hung out after she started working at the bar." Thinking about it a moment, Davey tilted his head and said, "You know, you and Katherine are a lot alike. You might like her if you got to know her."

"That, or kill each other," Crutchie laughed, standing up and making his way down the hallway.

Davey made a soft sound of agreement as Jack grunted non-committedly, and they continued eating in silence. 

After a moment, Jack asked, “What ‘bout you? An’ Crutchie? Ya alright now, what ‘bout when I left?”

This couldn’t go anywhere good, but Davey was tired and Jack was being unnecessarily defensive, so he gave him an honest answer. “Crutchie took it the hardest. I’ve seen ‘im go through surgery, couple’a bad breakups, and I’ve never seen him as upset as the night you left.”

Jack looked uncomfortable but Davey was on a roll. “He wouldn’t let me or Medda or Spot pack up your stuff for months, sure you were coming back. Stayed in our dorm more often than not, just so he could see you when you came back. Then he was pissed—rightly so, I should add—and he came around, realized you weren’t coming back. We all did.”

Something flashed in Jack’s eyes, anger and hurt and something fragile, and Davey relented. “We’re glad you’re back, Jack. But you can’t just ignore the fact that you left. It happened.”

Standing abruptly, Jack dumped his plate in the sink and grabbed his jacket from its spot slung over the arm of the chair. “Gotta go,” he said gruffly.

“Where?” Davey asked. Jack was staying with him until he found a place in the city.

Before he could answer, Crutchie came back in the room. "Where ya goin' Jack?"

“Need a smoke," Jack explained, flipping the collar up on his jacket. "Maybe two or three, so don't wait up.”

He stalked towards the front door, and Crutchie muttered, “Thought ya said ya quit.”

Stopping with one hand on the doorknob, one hand reaching into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, Jack grit his teeth a moment before saying, “Yeah, well. I’s said a lotta things.”

The door shut behind him and Davey rubbed his eyes, feeling a pit in his stomach.

"What happened? What'd ya say to 'im, Davey?" Crutchie asked, sitting next to him on the couch.

"I..." Davey couldn't win tonight. He'd been sworn to secrecy—Charlie didn't want Jack knowing how he'd reacted when he left. "I told him about after he left. Not all of it," he added quickly at Crutchie's look. "Just an... overview."

"Da-ave, you _swore,_ " Crutchie said with a slight whine. "I made ya spit shake an' everythin'."

Trying not to wrinkle his nose at the memory, Davey said, "I remember. But, c'mon Charlie, he needed to know. Maybe we don't like it, but things've changed."

Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, Crutchie sighed, looking at the door. "Dumb of us ta think everythin' could go back to normal, huh?" he laughed, sounding a little self-depricating.

Sighing as well, Davey squeezed his shoulder. "Maybe." 

~*~

 

Katherine stormed out the back door of the bar, ready to let out a scream.

Before she could, the door shut with a bang behind her, and she heard a muttered curse, and she whirled around, seeing Jack leaning against the wall, lit cigarette in hand.

She scrambled for something to say, confusion quickly replacing any frustration she’d been feeling, but all she could come up with was… “You smoke?”

He raised an eyebrow at the abrupt question. “Yeah. But don’t tell Medda. Don’t matta’ how old I am, she’d flay me alive.”

Katherine huffed a laugh at that. Medda had a strict “no smoking” policy in the bar—one Race had learned the hard way the first time he’d been caught smoking in the bathroom—she could only imagine she’d be the same way at home. “Yeah, okay,” she said, somewhat flippantly.

“Why’s you all huffy?” he asked, watching her pace the alley.

Brunch with her mom had gone… about as well as expected, hearing all about Connie’s wedding coming up, and how Ralph was excelling at the law firm, and how Joey just got back from _Europe_ , wasn’t that exciting? Oh, and Herbie’s _darling_ girlfriend was just _so_ nice, and isn't Edith's baby so _precious_? And she just had to check her mail before brunch and, and, and—

But she wasn’t about to spill that all to some guy who’d barely been in her life a week.

“Why are you _here_?” she countered. “The bar doesn’t open until five.”

Flicking the ashes off the end of the cigarette, Jack said, “Meetin’ the piano guy. The piano needs some strings replaced.”

"Isn't that your job?"

"Dunno how ta replace strings."

“Okay, well shouldn’t you be inside then?”

“Cool it, red—” She glared at him, and he raised his hands. “Sorry. _Kath’rine_. Just wanted a smoke ‘fore he came, but here. I think ya need this more’n I do.” He offered her the cigarette, and Katherine stared at it a moment before taking it with a short nod of thanks.

She took a drag, exhaling and rolling her shoulders. Jack gave her a look, like he was making sure she wasn’t about to bite his head off again, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a battered carton and lighting another cigarette.

They smoked in silence for a moment, and Katherine didn’t really feel like talking, but figured she should try and make up for yelling at him earlier. “So, you tune pianos?”

Jack shrugged. “Tune ‘em, play ‘em, whatever.”

“How’d you start playing in bars?”

“Didn’t useta play in bars. Medda knew how ta play, she taught me an’ Crutchie an’ Spot how ta. I was the only one it stuck with.”

Katherine tilted her head. “Well, I don't know about that. Charlie does have a minor in music... but he really only plays for the kids he works with, and not usually piano, so. And Spot’s not _bad_ , he’s just a little unsure.”

Jack looked surprised. “You’ve heard Spot play?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged a little, not sure why that was so odd. Spot only played in the bar for her and Race, but surely Jack had heard him play. “A couple times. When we open together or sometimes late nights. He only knows, like, three songs, but he’s good.”

“Wait,” he held up a hand. “Spot Conlon can actually play songs?”

Katherine nodded slowly. “Well, yeah, kind of. I mean, ‘Chopsticks’ and the Star Wars theme song are two of them, but he can also play ‘Billie Jean’ and we’re not really sure why.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I… huh. Had no clue.”

She cocked her head at him. “Didn’t you say you lived with him for six years?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, we was brothers. Foster brothers,” he amended after a moment.

“How did you live with him for so long and not know he could play?”

Shaking his head, he took a drag from his cigarette. “Dunno, he mostly just did the exercises to make Medda happy. Wasn’t really into it like me an’ Crutchie.”

“So you studied music too?”

He shook his head, taking a drag. “Nah. Art.”

“Wait. I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I was an art major two, three years’a college. When I got out ta Santa Fe, decided it wasn’t the best move.”

“Why?” Why he dropped it, or why he went to Santa Fe, she wasn’t sure which she was asking.

He made a face at her. “You’s nosey.”

“ _You’s_ the one who started it,” she reminded him, snubbing out the cigarette against the wall, shaking her head when he offered her another one.

“Art ain’t a sure thing,” he said matter-of-factly.

“And barroom piano playing is?” she asked, disbelieving.

Jack rolled his eyes. “If you’s so curious, I dropped outta college, learned how ta take care’a pianos, tunin’ ‘em an’ shit. Art’s touch-‘n-go, but there’s always rich people out there not playin’ their pianos an’ needin’ ‘em tuned.”

Katherine shifted slightly uncomfortably, thinking about the baby grand sitting in her old family home that no one knew how to play, but her mother insisted be retuned twice a year.

He caught her movement and his eyes widened slightly. “Oh my god, you’s one’a those rich people not playin’ your piano, ain’t you?”

“No!” He gave her an incredulous look and she shifted again. “…Technically, it’s my mom, not me.”

Laughing, Jack shook his head. “I knew it. You’s one’a them uptown girls ain’t’cha?” he asked. “How’d ya get down here with us reg’lar folk?”

Katherine raised an eyebrow at him. “And why would I tell you that?”

He shrugged. “‘Cause I toldja my tragic backstory. Tit f’r tat an’ all that—ooh.” He made a face. “Didn’t mean ta rhyme.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well I’m not showing you my _tat_.” He smirked at her choice of words.

Ignoring his question, she asked, “Why’d you come back?”

Shrugging again, he said, “Wasn’t much in Santa Fe—didja know it was _desert_? I moved there thinkin'—" he waved a hand. "Well, it don’t matter now. But the sky was pretty at night. View’s pretty decent here, though,” he said, leaning against the wall and looking her up and down.

Katherine straightened indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, okay, that whole leering thing? Has to stop. What do you think you’re achieving with it?”

Jack smirked, apparently set on being a total ass to her. “Can’t’cha see it in m’eyes?”

She didn’t have time for this. She’d gotten another rejection letter, had an awful brunch with her mom and she wasn’t putting up with this guy any more. Turning on her heel, Katherine said over her shoulder, “Maybe you should focus on how the hell you know so little about two boys you just called your brothers and leave me alone.”

Yanking the door open to go back into the bar, she almost missed the hurt look that flashed across his features.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes. I need to fix Jack's relationship with... everyone. asap.
> 
> also I've had Billie Jean stuck in my head for like three days now...
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts!!
> 
> xx


	3. The One Where Everything's Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack feels left out, Katherine's over it, and Annie DaSilva is officially the most precious child in the world.

_“Cheater!” Race yelled, kicking the controller out of Davey’s hand. “Rotten cheater!”_

_“Hey!” Al shoved Race. “That’s my controller, dipshit, don’t go breakin’ it ‘cause Davey’s better at Mario Kart than you.”_

_Jack cracked open a smuggled-in beer, nudging Davey. "How'd ya get so good, Dave? I ain't never seen ya play a video game."_

_Davey shrugged, taking a bottle from Jack. "I'm driving a cartoon car over a bridge, where's the challenge?"_

_"Who's winnin'?" Spot asked, breezing through the room._

_"Davey," Race muttered, pouting._

_Spot barked a laugh. "That's fuckin' pitiful, Higgins."_

_"Where's you headed, Hair Gel?" Al asked, throwing a crumbled chip bag at Spot._

_Kicking at Albert, Spot answered, "Date wit' Dani. Don't wait up assholes."_

~*~

 

“Kat, Kat, Kat!”

“Annie, Annie, Annie!” Katherine mimicked, turning around to see the little redheaded girl struggling to climb a barstool. “Is your Daddy still being irresponsible, bringing you to a bar?”

“Uh-huh…” Annie said absently, more interested in climbing the stool than paying attention to her.

Jack laughed, leaning towards Annie. “Can I help ya there, li’l miss?”

Annie recoiled, letting go of the barstool, eyeing Jack warily. After a second, she opened her mouth—to scream, Katherine would bet her last paycheck on it—when Spot rounded the bar, quickly and lifted her on his shoulders.

“‘Ay, Annie-girl! How ya doin’?”

“Spot!” Jack forgotten, Annie wrapped her arms around Spot’s head, tilting upside down so she could see him better. “Hi!”

Squeezing her ankles, Spot asked, “Where’s ya deadbeat dad, sweetheart?”

Her little brow furrowed. “Wha’sa deadbeat?”

“It means Spot’s just being silly,” Katherine said quickly, shooting Spot a quick look as Albert finally entered the bar.

“There’s m’brat,” Al deadpanned.

“Daddy!” Annie squealed, tumbling from Spot’s shoulders into Albert’s arms.

Catching her easily, Albert said, unimpressed, “Offspring.”

“Albert—” Katherine began, disapprovingly.

“Subway lets out across the street, she recognized the place, an’ Annie likes ta run, don’t’cha?” he asked the girl on her hip.

“Yeah!” she agreed, grinning.

“Hey, Al, good ta see ya, man,” Jack said.

Albert turned to Jack with a tight look, shifting Annie on his hip as he gave him a—clearly forced—smile. “So, the rumors’re true. Good ol’ Captain Jack’s back in New York.”

Jack nodded to Annie. “This ya girl? Ya terrible at updatin’, I was thinkin’ she was still a baby.”

Annie shied away, tucking her face into Albert’s neck. “S’all right, Annie, that’s just an old friend’a ya ol’ man’s. C’mon, let’s see what Spot’s doin’.” He turned without another word to Jack, taking Annie to the other end of the bar.

Jack looked slightly stricken by the scene. “It’s not you,” Katherine explained. “Annie’s been nervous around strangers for about a year now. It was… a whole thing, her mom came back and broke her heart. Al, too, seeing her like that.”

“Annie’s… mom? That, uh, Marissa chick Al was kinda datin’? Thought she was in California?”

“She was. Until last year,” Katherine said, watching as Al and Annie with Spot. “She decided she wanted to get to know Annie, then bailed when she started getting too close. We don’t like her.”

“Hey, Ann, what’cha say we get’cha somethin’ to eat?” Spot asked.

“Mac an’ cheese!” Annie insisted.

Spot took her from Al, hefting her up on his hip. “C’mon, girlie, let’s see what Kloppman’s got f’r ya.”

“Nothin’ sweet, Spotty,” Albert called after them.

Katherine gave him a suspicious look. “Because you’ve already given her too much sugar today?”

Albert dropped his head in his hands. “ _God_ so much, I regret everythin’.”

She rolled her eyes a little, smiling. “Well, welcome back! But if you’re here, that must mean—”

The door opened with a bang, causing the patrons at the tables near the entrance to jump and turn in their seats.

“I’m here,” Racetrack Higgins said dramatically, slinging a jacket over his shoulder. “I’m queer. An’ I need a fuckin’ drink.”

He paused a moment longer leaning against the door, Katherine didn’t know why, before pushing off and walking up to the bar, past the uninterested bar patrons.

“Wow, Race, that was… really fuckin’ gay,” Al said.

“Thank you. ‘Ay, Kath!” Race leaned over the bar to hug her.

She hugged him back. “Hi, Tony! How was the competition?”

“Twenty-five screamin’, whinin’ little bastards, complainin’ all week an’ drivin’ me crazy. An’ their kids. So ya know. Great.”

“Good ta know you haven’t changed, Racer,” Jack said.

“Hey, Jackie.” Race’s smile turned a little strained, but was still warm. He clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Kath told me ya was in town.”

“Really?” Jack looked to her and Katherine shook her head.

“I said ‘some guy came in the bar playing Rick Astley’ and he immediately guessed it was you,” she said drily.

Jack shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. “I guess I just didn’t know the two’a you knew each other.”

“She knows everythin’ about everyone,” Race said. “S’why her hair’s so big, it’s full’a _secrets_ ,” he whispered dramatically.

“If you keep comparing me to Gretchen Weiners, I’ll stop serving you,” Katherine said flatly.

“Spotty won’t,” he said smugly.

“Spotty doesn’t have seniority,” she reminded him.

Craning his neck, Race looked around the bar. “Where, uh. Is Spot, huh?”

Mentally, Katherine groaned. “In the back with Annie, but _please_ , he goes on break in like twenty minutes, do not go back there and distract him.”

Hopping off his barstool, Race was already heading towards the kitchen before she could finish. “Who said anythin’ ‘bout distractin’? I just wanna see my niece.”

“Yeah, an’ I’m the Queen’a England,” Albert muttered.

“ _Really_ ,” Katherine muttered. “Though, you should take her home soon. Kloppman’s going to be closing the kitchen soon and, in about an hour, the rougher crowd gets in. Also, Annie’s _five_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Al waved a hand. “I’ll go get her. S’it alright with Medda I go back here?”

“Medda's not here this week, but yeah, go ahead. Just don’t stay too long. The kitchen’s not big enough to hold that many people.”

“Thanks, Kath." He pushed off the bar and ambled to the kitchen.

Jack took a sip of his coffee. "Wow, he's, like... a dad now, huh?"

"That tends to happen when you have a kid," she chuckled, holding up the pot of coffee in question.

He shook his head. "Nah, I mean. He's responsible an' shit."

Katherine considered that. "Albert has his days. He's definitely grown up."

Jack looked like he wanted to say more when the door opened and Davey entered, heading straight for the bar. 

“Barkeep! Your finest bubbly, please and thank you,” Davey said, hopping onto the stool next to Jack.

Katherine laughed. “Always for you, Davey,” she said, setting a bottle of ginger ale in front of him.

“Ooh, ginger ale? Wanna talk ‘bout it, buddy?” Jack teased.

Davey knocked Jack's shoulder with his. “Nothing like that. Except…" he sighed, shaking his head. "Long day. One of those days where I feel like nothing I do is helping my students.”

“Bad test grades?” Katherine asked, wincing sympathetically. Davey'd mentioned the other day he had a test coming up in class.

He had been hopeful.

“Abysmal.”

Clearly, not so much anymore.

“Here, lemme buy ya somethin’ stronger’n ginger ale,” Jack offered, turning to Katherine.

“Oh no, Davey doesn’t drink,” she said, shaking her head.

He turned back to Davey, confused. “Since when?”

“Oh, right, that was after you left. Uh, since… I dunno, a week? After my twenty-first birthday?” he turned to Katherine for confirmation.

“Sounds about right," she agreed. "You didn’t come back to the bar for… three years after that.”

Jack looked confused. “Wait ‘m missin’ somethin’, why don’t Davey drink anymore?”

“Oh, because I got really blackout drunk and ended doin’ an’ saying a lot of stuff I don’t remember, but definitely regret. Turns out, alcoholism runs… pretty deep and rampant in my family. Haven’t touched the stuff since.” Davey took a sip of his ginger ale. “Fun fact, I don’t remember that entire week.”

“Even more fun fact,” Katherine said, handing two beers to a man with a smile. “You hit on me twice. Very poorly and sloppily, but still. That’s when I told Sarah.”

“Oh, I _didn’t_ ,” Davey covered his eyes, laughing, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Yeah. Would’ve been funny if you weren’t, you know. Drunk. Or one of my best friends.”

Suddenly Jack shoved his seat away from the bar, nearly knocking the stool in his haste as he stormed through the kitchen door.

Davey didn’t look too surprised, but dropped his head in his hand, sighing. He started to stand, but Katherine stopped him.

“Let me talk to him,” she said, a little tightly, half-wishing he would stop her. But she was the only one who could look at this objectively. Besides, ever since Jack Kelly came into the bar, he’d totally shaken everything up. Spot had been on edge all week, Davey looked more tired than she’d ever seen him. All because Jack Kelly walked into the bar.

So help her, he was going to get a piece of her mind.

Untying her apron, Katherine tossed it on the counter behind the bar, leaving Davey as she ducked under the swinging top of the bar and pushing open the door to the kitchen. 

“Spot, go cover the bar,” she said shortly, not waiting for an answer as she stepped outside, crossing her arms over herself against the chill since the sun had gone down.

Jack jumped at the sound of the door opening so suddenly, swiping angrily under his eyes before saying, “Look, Pulitzer, I ain’t in the mood to be yelled at—”

"What's really bothering you?" Katherine asked calmly, cutting him off. "Can't be that Davey drunkenly hit on me once  _seven years ago_ , so what is it?"

He floundered a moment, clearly thrown by her question—or maybe her lack of yelling, more like, she had to begrudgingly admit. "Nothin'," he muttered. 

"Yeah, one thing you should know about me, Kelly, is that I'm not stupid."

"I ain't sayin' you's stupid—"

"No, you're just insulting my intelligence."

Jack didn't look like he wanted to answer her, and Katherine sighed. "Look, I don't know you. I hadn't even heard of you until about two weeks ago. You leaving didn't affect me. But you and the guys have some kind of past and it's creating this weird tension every time you all are around each other and I'm just trying to keep the peace since I have to work with all of you and I'm friends with the guys—"

"Everythin's different," he interrupted shortly. "I come back an' Al's a dad an' Davey's an alcoholic—"

"Recovered alcoholic," Katherine defended.

"—an' Spot's good with  _kids_? An' everyone's mad at me, an' where the hell do you come in?"

She blinked, not really expecting to be a part of why he was mad. "I'm sorry?"

Jack waved his hands, scrambling for words. "You's just... here! An' you's friends with all the guys an'—"

"Wait, are you mad that I'm friends with your friends?" Katherine shook her head disbelievingly. "I'm sorry, are we in  _high school_?"

"No, that ain't it, I just—everythin's just different an' weird, an'—"

"And you're going to... what? Whine about it?" Jack shot her a furious look at her interruption. She shrugged. "You left. Eight years went by. People change, it's part of life. Learn to live with it, or you'll always be on the outside. Nothing happens if you just give in. If you want to get back to somewhat normal with them, _talk_ to them, instead of moping out here in the alleyway."

He gave her a long look before shaking his head, huffing a dry chuckle with no humor in it. "That an order?"

Katherine shrugged again. "I _am_ your boss, technically, until Medda gets back." Jack rolled his eyes slightly, but there didn't seem to be any malice behind the gesture. As far as she could tell, knowing him less than two weeks. "Just think about it, okay?" 

He tilted his head, considering that a moment as he pulled out his battered pack of Marlboros. "Yeah, okay," he said gruffly, offering her a cigarette.

She shook her head, wrinkling her nose a little. She wasn’t going to admit it to him, but she spent all day feeling sick after she smoked the last time—it’d been too long, it was probably time to kick the habit for good. "Good," Katherine said, glad the matter was over for now, and turned to go back inside.

“So. You an’ Conlon...?” he trailed off, causing her to turn back and look at him.

“Me and Spot… what?” Katherine asked, confused. Jack gave her a significant look, like he was embarrassed to say it out loud. It clicked in her head, and she practically doubled over, laughing. “Me and  _Spot_? Oh my god, you have been gone too long, Kelly.” She swiped under her eyes, still giggling. “Oh my _god_. We haven’t gotten that one since he and Race started dating.”

Jack looked confused. “Wait… Spot and Race…?”

Katherine nodded, trying valiantly to stop laughing, but something about their talk and his question, just knocked something loose and she couldn't quit. "I'll give you a pass since Race's been gone, but yeah. They're not subtle. At all. By the end of the night, you'll see." Glancing down at her watch, she shook her head, pressing her lips together to stifle her laughter. "You start in an hour, okay?"

He nodded, taking a drag and looking a little confused still, and she pulled the door open to go back through the kitchen. To her slight disappointment, Annie and Albert had left already. A DaSilva was a DaSilva, but she hadn't seen Annie in too long. Maybe Al would let her steal his daughter her next day off.

Waving to Kloppman, who was cleaning up, Katherine pushed her way into the bar, retying her apron around her waist, mentally preparing herself for her last two hours. She never realized just exactly how much Medda did, and she was dead tired and ready to go home.

Spot looked up from the drink he was preparing, narrowing his eyes at her a little. "What did the two'a ya talk 'bout?" he asked, a little too nonchalantly. 

Katherine snorted. She didn't know what this personal beef Spot had with Jack was, but she really didn't feel like getting into it just now. "Just about how you and I weren't dating."

" _What_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! I had to lowkey abandon this story to do the Christmas story, and it took me a bit to get back into this mindset. We'll see how it goes from here!
> 
> Couldn't decide on a song for this chapter (and I'm shockingly picky about piano covers, which is my problem, so...)
> 
> I actually dreamt about Al and Annie this last week and Annabella really is the cutest kid ever (not that I'm... _biased_ or anything)
> 
> I'd love to know your what you think!!
> 
> xx


	4. The One Where Spot Runs

_Spot sat across from Katherine in the library, nervously turning the envelope over in his hands. He’d been waiting for months for this letter, had been dying to know if he’d gotten into law school or not, but now that he had the answer… he wasn’t too sure._

_“Oh my god,” Katherine groaned exasperatedly. “Open it, or I will.”_

_“What if I’m ‘ccepted, Kathy?” he asked, staring at the envelope._

_“Then you become a hotshot lawyer, I sell my manuscript, and we don’t have to serve alcohol at Medda’s anymore.”_

_“An’ if I don’t?”_

_“Then we get_ wasted  _after work tonight.”_

_He smirked at that. “Promise?”_

_“Oh my god,” she reached over and plucked the envelope from him and tore it open, scanning the contents. “‘Dear Mr. Conlon, we are pleased to inform you—’ Spot, you’re in!”_

 

~*~

  

"Hey." A soft hand in his hair slowly brought Race out of his doze on the bar, his face smushed into the wood.

He blinked a little dazedly up at Spot, who moved his hand to brush his jaw with his knuckles. "'m lockin' up. Didn't want'cha to fall asleep on the counter again."

"Time s'it?" Race asked muzzily, struggling to lift his head up. If he was thinking straight, he'd remember what time Spot got off, but time was meaningless and he'd just been dreaming he was a general of an army made up entirely of hamsters, so...

"Quarter after two. C'mon, I already put the money up an' locked up the office, I wanna get a couple hours'a sleep 'fore I go to the gym."

Race had started to sit up, but slumped his shoulders a little as he turned towards his boyfriend. "Babe," he started tiredly.

Spot waved a hand. "Nah, c'mon, don't start. S'been a long day."

"Maybe 'cause ya get up at five to go to the gym an' don't get off work most nights 'til after two. You're gonna burn out."

"Ya don't know that—"

"Yeah, I do," Race interrupted. He hooked his fingers through the belt loop of Spot's jeans, tugging him closer. "I know ya got a process, seen it the last three times, an' I'll be there f'r the next three, but ya gotta actually sleep sometime—"

"—There ain't gonna be another three times," Spot sighed. "Ain't even gonna be another time. I ain't takin' the Bar again."

Race blinked, hard. He had no idea Spot had been thinking about giving up becoming a lawyer. But the way he'd said it, looking seriously in the dimmed lights of Medda's place, Race knew this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision.

He'd been thinking about this a while now, probably asking Katherine to weigh in—a fact Race tried not to feel too jealous about. Kath and Spot had been friends longer than he and Spot had even been dating, was there when Spot first started applying to law school. Hell, she was there before Spot started the whole "excessive exercising" process after failing, when he still got too drunk and trashed his apartment (and, once, he heard, hers).

Shaking those thoughts away, he smoothed his thumb over Spot's hip, just under his black tshirt he wore for work. "Ya sure?" he asked simply.

Spot huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head a little. "No," he admitted. "But it just ain't happenin' right now. Maybe in another year, but right now, Medda's ain't so bad, s'fun workin' with Kath. Ain't exactly what I thought it'd be, but. Ain't bad."

"But ain't good?" Race asked carefully.

Shrugging, Spot listed towards him a little, so Race's hand went from his hip to the small of his back. "S'different," he said finally. 

"Well s'long as ya tryin' something' different..." Race said coyly, pulling Spot closer and kissed his jaw. "How 'bout you sleep in an' you an' me have our own workout? S'great, we don't even gotta leave the bed. 'less ya feelin' ambitious, then we can try the shower." He wiggled his eyebrows up at Spot, grinning.

Spot tried to give him a dry look, but the corner of his mouth quirked up a little. "Ya tryin' to turn my life decision into a proposition f'r sex?"

"Is it workin'?"

"Little bit. Let's go."

 

~*~

 

Spot managed to sleep in a couple hours longer than he was used to, skipping his normal exercise regime for Race's—admittedly more pleasurable—alternative, but he still dragged Katherine out at lunch for a run. 

"You told him about the Bar?" Katherine asked, ponytail swinging as they jogged down the sidewalk.

He didn't like music when he ran, wasn't patient enough to figure out what to listen to, but Spot still hadn't decided how he felt about Kathy talking to him the whole time.

(Okay, it wasn't like he  _hated_ it...)

"Yeah."

"How'd he take it?"

Spot shrugged a little. "Pretty surprised, but. He ain't breakin' up with me f'r not bein' a lawyer."

She huffed out a breathy laugh. "Wow. You have a really low opinion of your boyfriend."

"Nah, I mean... S'just Medda's was s'posed to be temporary, ya know?"

"For me too," Kath pointed out. "But you should give him more credit, he's given up on things, just like we have."

Spot grunted noncommittally. Race was so good at his job, sometimes he forgot his boyfriend didn't always want to be a dance teacher.

"Ever think about that?" she continued as though he hadn't said anything—not that he had, of course. "You, me, Tony, Jack even... We're all far,  _far_ , from where we thought we'd be ten years ago."

"I didn't know I wanted to be a lawyer 'til eight years ago," Spot interjected halfheartedly.

Katherine kept talking. "Like, Jack was saying the other day—"

He rolled his eyes before interrupting her. "God, I'm sorry, but can we not talk about that guy?" 

She faltered a step as she turned her head to look down at him. "I've literally mentioned him, like, twice, Spot. What's your problem?"

"Yeah, an' it's two more times than I'd like to hear. Since when did the two'a you become friends?" Spot scoffed.

"We're not _friends,_ " Katherine stressed. "We're... friendly, I guess. But you're the only one not making the effort, Spot. It's been a month. Even Albert's broken down."

He shook his head. "I gotta... compl'cated relationship with Jack."

"But it didn't used to be?" she asked as they stopped at the crosswalk. 

Spot was starting to reconsider his "no-music-during-runs" rule. "Kathy, I don't really want to talk 'bout it, okay?"

"No, really," she tugged on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. "You have a complicated relationship with Jack  _now_ , since he left. But it wasn't always, right? I've talked to Charlie and Medda and Jack. You lived with them before, right?"

Reaching back to grab his foot, Spot shrugged. "Yeah, from 'bout fifteen, sixteen to twenty-one, I lived with Medda an' Crutchie. An' Jack."

"And...?" Katherine prompted.

He grabbed his other foot. "An'... maybe it wasn't so bad. But Jack... It was bad when he left, that's all."

"Are you why he left?"

Spot huffed a dry laugh. He almost told her, but it wasn't his to tell. If she wanted to get pally with Kelly, he could tell her himself. "No, I ain't. But I was the last one ta see him 'fore he left."

"And you had a fight?"

"We... exchanged words."

Katherine looked frustrated at his lack of information, but Spot could do this all day with her. They went nearly two years before she even learned his real name and that was because she had a friend in the admin office. "He's  _trying_ , Sean. Why aren't you?"

"Don't see no reason to."

She sighed, loudly, and if she hadn't pinned back her bangs, she'd be blowing them straight up. The light changed, and he started across the road.

Katherine stopped him. "Wait." She pointed down the street a ways. "I beat you to that lamppost, you talk to Jack. Anything other than angry staring, talk about the weather or the Dodgers, I don't care."

She had him with the Dodgers and he  _hated_ that. But he also knew he could beat her. Kathy had longer legs, but he'd been running since high school. Rolling his eyes, Spot agreed. "Sure, Kath, whatever."

Katherine took off without preamble, leaving Spot on the street corner two beats longer than he would've liked. 

"Dammit!" He raced after her, dodging pedestrians— _dammit, why do tourists stop in the crosswalks? There's nothin' there!_ —but Katherine had a decent head start on him, and slapped her hand against the lamppost a good five steps ahead of him.

"That was dirty, Kath," he accused, panting, shoving her.

She shoved back, laughing breathlessly. "You have to talk to Jack," she said sternly. "One conversation. That's all I ask."

He shook his head, leaning his back against the post. "I ain't 'pologizin' f'r nothin' an' I ain't makin' friends with him."

“That's fine.” Katherine bent over a moment, hands on her knees, catching her breath. “But you have to at least be civil to him tonight. It’s my night off. I can’t be playing peacemaker.”

Spot groaned, dropping his head against the lamppost.

 

~*~

 

Spot had almost managed to forget about his deal with Katherine until he walked in to start his shift at the bar that night. 

Wandering in about halfway through the dinner rush and ducking under the bar, he snagged an apron and tied it around his waist, clapping Finch's shoulder. "How'd ya first solo go?" He and Kath had been getting Finch ready to do more behind the bar in the last month so she'd be able to help Medda more with managing. It may not have been too ideal to leave him alone only a month in, but the kid seemed to be doing okay.

Raking a hand through his short curls, Finch shrugged. "Not too bad. Got a little crazy f'r a bit, but Mush an' Jenny an' Smalls helped me keep up."

"S'good. Early crowd ain't usually too bad. How 'bout ya help me finish dinner, take ya break, an' then ya can finish out your shift back here with me or bussin'. Your call."

The kid screwed up his face, thinking. "I'll bus. I had enough'a rememberin' drinks."

Spot clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, ya did great f'r your first solo. First night Kathy left me alone, I screwed up so many orders in the first hour I had to call her outta a date to come fix my mess. 'Least the buildin's still standin'."

Finch huffed a laugh in agreement, and they finished out dinner with relative ease. Jack finished his set right as Spot sent Finch on break, wandering over and sitting at the bar and reminding Spot of his deal with Kath.

Busying himself with making a cup of coffee for Jack, Spot tried to come up with something. 

_"Talk about the weather or the Dodgers, I don't care."_

_Nice guidelines there, Kathy._

He slid the mug towards Jack, who accepted it with a nod of thanks.

"Uh, where's Kath?" Jack asked after a moment.

"Her night off," Spot answered shortly. "She's got Annie f'r girls' night or some shit."

"Mm." They sat in silence again, allowing the background noise of the bar to envelope them.

If Katherine  _were_ there, she'd be giving him pointed glances and not-so-subtly jerking her head towards Jack, silently telling him to start talking. Or course, if Kath were here, she'd be talking to Jack, so he wouldn't have to.

Thankfully, Smalls approached the bar, putting in an order so Spot had something to keep him from having to talk to Jack.

"Hey, Spotty, I need your help," Smalls said, stopping at the bar, bracing her hands on the wood.

"Ya startin' a cult?" Spot asked, not looking up from the Manhattans he was making.

She shook her head. "Not this week."

"Then, yeah, sure. What's up, kid?"

Smalls folded her hands, looking at him seriously. "I wanna sue my professor."

Jack choked on his coffee and Spot's head snapped up. "Jesus, Smalls, what happened—?"

"No, god, nothin' like that," she waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, he keeps moving the test date."

Spot narrowed his eyes at her a moment, unthinkingly darting his eyes to Jack, who was already looking at him, equally confused. "He's—"

"It's totally messing with all my other classes," she added.

"I—you can't sue f'r that, Smalls. There ain't nothin' statin' that he can't change the test date," Spot said slowly. Three years of law school and this is what he had to show for it.

She shook her head. "What about the syllabus? That's a kinda contract, right?"

Spot considered that. "Does he say the test dates are definite?"

"He doesn't say they're  _not_. I've read it six times. Give me a section," she challenged. "I can quote it word for word."

Shrugging, Spot said, "Ya might have cause f'r complaint, but you didn't sign it, ain't a legally-bindin' contract or nothin'. Can't sue."

Smalls' shoulders slumped forward as she let out a whine. "What did you even  _go_ to law school for if I can't exploit your legal advice?"

"To fail the Bar six times an' serve alcohol. Now—" A small crash from the back corner booth barely turned his head. "—get back ta work 'fore I fire ya." 

Tossing her hair as best she could with her new cut—was it new or had she always had short hair? hell if Spot knew—Smalls rounded the bar to grab the broom and mop. "Can't fire me, I'm too cute."

"Didn't work for Racer, won't work for you, kid." She turned around to stick her tongue out at him and Spot snorted, shaking his head. Cute wasn't a factor, he couldn't fire her because she was fuckin' hilarious. This was the third time this month she'd asked for 'legal advice'.

He'd almost forgotten Jack was still sitting at the bar until he turned around in hunt for more glasses to see him staring a little quizzically. "What?" 

It came out harsher than he really meant for it to, and Jack jumped a little, twisting his coffee mug. “Nothin', just... You was in law school?”

“Yeah, whole time.” Jack blinked in surprise. “Holy shit, right?”

"Uh, yeah. Little bit," he laughed a bit. "What happened?"

Spot motioned towards Smalls halfheartedly. "S'like I said, I failed the test. Six times."

"Nah, I mean, why'd ya decide to be a lawyer?"

He thought about giving him one his answers he gave people he didn't care about—"Spent so much time gettin' arrested, figured I'd find out how to get myself outta it"— but Jack actually looked sincere and shit, and technically he was supposed to be having a conversation with the guy.

Wasn't the Dodgers, but Kelly never had the proper respect for them anyways.

Damn Yankees fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no, of course Spot didn't get Race a job at the bar when they were first together and then have to fire him like a month later because it wasn't working out. and no, Race didn't try, "ain't I too cute to be fired?" when it happened. absolutely not. that would be preposterous.
> 
> I'd love to know what you think!!
> 
> xx


	5. The One With Katherine's Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ta-da!!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-8ksLqquEs) I'm back with chapter songs!! :D
> 
> **I DO NOT CONDONE SMOKING THERE ARE MANY HEALTH HAZARDS TO SMOKING PLEASE DON'T START SMOKING**

_“No, Katherine, there’s absolutely no way you’re going through with this—”_

_Katherine gritted her teeth, breathing slowly through her nose. “Dad, you seem to be under the impression that I’m asking your permission.”_

_”Don’t interrupt me, young lady,” he ground out. “You are better than this, can you just imagine what your sister would say—”_

_“That’s just it!” Her voice was shrill, even in her own ears, but Katherine barreled through. “We don’t know what Lucy would think, do we? God, she’s been dead over a year, and you’re still comparing me to her? I can’t—” she cut herself off. She couldn’t have this conversation again. But she could dig the knife in one last time while she had the upper hand._

_”And I’m not better than that. I already did it. And I told Mom, thought you might want to know too.”_

_She stood there with her chin high, triumphant in her cutting blow._

_But it turned out her father had one last dig of his own._

_”Your sister would be so disappointed in you.”_

_Joseph Pulitzer knew how to command a room, make himself bigger than life, and in that moment, Katherine never felt smaller in her father’s presence._

 

~*~

 

"Do you play anything other than pop music?" Jack looked up to see Katherine looking up from the bar at him. It was getting harder to tell how much of what she said was teasing and what wasn't. He was pretty sure they were past the openly hostile phase, but she was still a bit of a closed book.

Shrugging, Jack switched from the song he was playing to the first Beethoven piece he could think of off the top of his head.

"'Ode to Joy'?" she asked, scoffing a little when he nodded. "Beethoven's easy. Even  _I_ knew how to play Beethoven." There was a mix of challenge and amusement in her eyes and he felt a rush of... something go through him and Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to impress her or show her up.

“Oh you ain’t impressed by that?” he asked, grinning slightly, hoping he wasn't about to eat his words. He hadn't played any classical music seriously in a while. “What ‘bout—” he changed songs again. “—Tchaikovsky?” Again. “Dubussy?” Once more. “Bach?”

Rolling her eyes a little, Katherine threw her rag at him, missing the piano by at least five feet. “Show off,” she muttered.

"Oh my  _god_ ," Spot muttered, rolling his eyes.

Laughing, Jack switched back to the song he'd been playing before he was interrupted, singing under his breath. “ _…And do you ever wonder? How the boy feels…_ ”

The three of them were quiet a bit, Jack going from flipping through his sheet music to playing a little halfheartedly, warming up, while Spot and Katherine prepped the bar before the waiters came in. 

The room had been quiet so long that when the door opened, jingling the bell, Jack jumped slightly while Katherine simply called out, “We’re not open yet.”

Jack looked up briefly, barely registering a man—little old for Medda's crowd but, hey, whatever—before going back to his music, flipping through the sheets. They’d only left the front door open so he  and Spot could drag in the new tables and chairs that had finally arrived. Guess they forgot to lock it back.

“Hello, Katherine.”

Katherine made a sharp, squeaking noise, drawing his attention again and Jack saw a flash of pain across her face before smoothing her features into something neutral. Standing, he could see she had cut her hand and was clutching it to her chest now. 

"Shit." He was moving towards the bar before he knew what was happening. In lieu of using the swinging counter top, Jack braced his hands on the counter and hauled himself over the bar, landing smoothly on the other side. 

(If he weren't so focused on the blood pooling in Katherine's palm, he'd have more time to think about how  _fucking cool_ that move had been)

"Shit Kath, are ya alright?" Jack was at her side in a second, reaching for her hand, but Katherine wasn’t looking at him.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "Spot just had to remember to actually sharpen the knives last night, huh?"

Spot didn't even rise to the bait this time, just moved closer to her as well, eyes flashing. “The lady said we’re closed.”

The man looked thoroughly unimpressed with the whole scene. “Really, young man, do you find yourself intimidating?”

Balling up his fists, Spot growled, “Aw, ya ain’t seen nothin’ yet—”

“Dad—" _Dad_? Looking closer, Jack could see it. A little around the eyes, the proud lift in the chin that was, if he was honest, attractive on Kath, but cold and calculating on her father. “Classy move, showing up unannounced at my job.”

Her father simply raised an eyebrow. “Well, you haven’t been answering when I called—”

“I changed my number three years ago— _oh_!” Katherine doubled over slightly, gripping her hand. “Ow, shit, okay, yeah, that hurts…”

“Okay,” Jack grabbed a rag from the counter, wrapping it around her hand. “C’mon, Medda’s got a first aid kit in the office.” He shot a hard, confused look towards Katherine's father. “Spot, wouldja mind—?”

Spot drew himself up. “My pleasure.”

Jack led her back to towards the office without another glance to her father. Katherine 

Medda looked up sharply as they entered the office. “What in the world—what happened, honey?”

“I—I ain’t too sure,” Jack looked back towards Katherine a moment. “Some guy…?”

“Dad,” she said simply, dropping into an extra chair, Jack hovering beside her. 

Medda was on her feet in a second. “Uh-uh, not in my bar,” she said, whirling out of the office.

“She never makes a normal entrance or exit,” Katherine mused, staring down at her hand. 

"Yeah, that's Medda f'r ya." Jack snagged the first aid kit from on top of the filing cabinet. Kneeling in front of Katherine, he unwrapped the towel from her hand. "Alright, that don't look too bad. Get it cleaned up and bandaged in no time." Her fingers were shaking slightly in his, though Jack had to wonder if it was more because of the shock than blood; Katherine didn't seem like the squeamish type.

She didn't say anything as he used one of the alcohol swabs to clean her hand. The bleeding had slowed and stopped by the time he taped a bit of gauze to her hand, and Jack tried not to focus on how close they were sitting or how smooth her skin was because  _Dammit, Kelly, she sliced her hand open and the whole thing with her dad, this is_ not  _the time._

"There ya go," he said, squeezing her hand a little, careful to avoid the area he'd just wrapped up. "No too bad, right?"

"You're weirdly good at this," Katherine said, sounding absentminded as she stared at the ground.

Jack shrugged. "Been cut up a few times in my day. You's lucky, won't need stitches and ain't gonna scar too bad."

"There was a lot of blood."

"Yeah, well ya cut your hand open with a knife. But you's gonna be alright." He started to stand, holding out a hand to help her up when she didn't follow. "Ya wanna go back?"

Katherine stared blankly at his hand a moment before shaking her head. "I can't go back out there," she said, her voice shaking a little. "Not until he leaves. I just. I can't."

"Alright. You don't gotta go nowheres 'til ya ready," Jack agreed easily, sitting in the other chair in Medda's office.

Leaning forward, she propped her elbows as she carefully buried her face in her hands. "I look stupid, don't I? Hiding from my dad?"

He shrugged, even though she couldn't see him. "My experience, anyone hidin' usually got a pretty good reason f'r it." Jack didn't know about the relationship, but Katherine was easily the most levelheaded person he knew besides Davey. She wouldn't hide if she didn't feel like she had to.

Shaking her head a little, Katherine shifted her hands so she could look at him. "Don't know about good, but I have... reasons, I guess." Before Jack could say anything, she was pushing forward. "He doesn't love... a lot of decisions I made in college. Like working at the bar, still. It was supposed to be a college job."

"Yeah? What'd he have in mind f'r ya?"

She shrugged. "Not writing, which is what I majored in. Lucy and Joey both followed dad into business, my oldest brother's a lawyer, youngest brother's a hedge fund manager, and my other sisters married rich. And I'm still managing a bar in the Upper East Side, single, and getting rejection letters. And there was just..." she shook her head. "Nothing. We had a big fight around the time he and mom split and. That's been it." 

Jack could tell she was leaving something out—and probably something big—but despite moving past "openly hostile", they were just barely friends. And she'd already told him way more about her life than he'd been able to figure out in the last almost two months. 

"Well—" he started, but was interrupted when Medda stuck her head back in the office. 

"He's gone now, honey. Are you okay? Do you need to go home?"

Katherine stood up quickly, shaking her head and giving Medda a small, tight smile. "No. Thanks Medda, I'm fine."

She turned on her heel, leaving the office to go back out on the bar floor. Jack looked back over his shoulder at Medda, whose lips were pursed, looking unconvinced. 

"Keep an eye on her, alright, sugar? She won't say it, but she's always a little rattled when her father's involved."

"Yeah, kinda noticed. What's the story there?" he asked, standing.

Medda waved a hand as she sat back down behind her desk. "Not my story to tell, hon. Just keep an eye out. And let me know if you see that Joseph Pulitzer around again, okay?"

He gave her a mock-salute. "Aye-aye, Miss Medda."

Out in the bar, Spot was trying in vain to get Katherine engaged in some conversation. She was nodding along and humming in all the right places, but Jack could tell her heart wasn't really into it. He may know shit about women, but Jack was pretty well-versed in masks, and Katherine was hiding behind a mask of a tight-lipped smile. Her eyes still had this fragile look in them as her gaze darted towards the door, like she was on lookout.

He wanted to say something that might put her at ease, but he didn't know what or if anything would work. Besides, Spot had been her friend longer, knew better at what to say and do, and his approach seemed to be _Act Like Everything Was Normal._ So Jack pulled out his pack of cigarettes and said, "'Kay, 'm gonna go smoke 'fore we open."

"If Racer's smokin' out there, tell 'im s'a gross habit an' I ain't kissin' him 'til he brushes his teeth," Spot said, glancing towards Katherine briefly before going back to his inventory.

Jack stuck the cigarette between his teeth. "What 'bout me? Ya ain't gonna kiss me 'til I brush my teeth too?"

Spot rolled his eyes, throwing a cherry pit at him. "Fuck off, Kelly."

Katherine snorted softly as she carefully removed the basket from the coffeemaker to put a new filter in it. Jack wiggled his eyebrows at Spot before ducking through the kitchen out to the alley. As Spot had predicted, Race was leaning against the wall, smoking.

"Hey, Jackie. Need a light?"

He shook his head, pulling out his lighter to light his cigarette. "Nah 'm good. Spot said to tell ya—"

Race waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah, he's been on me 'bout smokin' lately."

"He want you to quit? You gonna?"

He shrugged, holding the cigarette in one hand and running the other hand through his hair. "Been thinkin' 'bout it. Some." Race took a drag from his cigarette, staring at the end of it. "You do some crazy shit when you's in love, Jackie," he said, cracking a half-grin and snubbing out his cigarette.

Jack scoffed. "Wouldn't know."

"You will, young John," Race said, faux-sagely.

"Older'n you, Race," Jack countered, rolling his eyes.

Race rubbed his hands together, looking a little lost without a cigarette in his hand. "So how's Kath?" he asked, changing the subject with a slightly knowing tone. "Spot said somethin' 'bout gettin' hurt an' her dad?"

"Yeah, act'ally, I wanted to talk to you 'bout that."

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I needja help.”

 

~*~

 

Katherine tried to hide a wince as she handed over drinks to a girl with pastel highlights before leaning back against the counter. Her hand was sore, she'd already taken more Advil than was probably advisable, and, to top it off, still had another four hours on her shift. Not to mention, someone—she suspected Race—must have sent something out in the stupid group chat they still had, because Crutchie and Davey, who had come in about an hour after they opened, had been shooting her worried looks all night.

"You doin' alright?" Spot asked casually, reaching under the bar for the soda gun.

"Yeah," she said shortly, straightening up and pouring herself a cup of coffee.

She saw him eye her out of the corner of her eye before turning back to the drink he was making. They'd been friends for going on a decade, he'd seen the worst of it with her dad, he knew better than to push her about it. 

“Alright, alright," an amplified voice said, interrupting her thoughts. Katherine looked up a little warily. Who let Race have a microphone?

He continued. "You all see the gorgeous redhead behind the bar? We pretty much couldn't do nothin' without her, so me an' Jackie's dedicatin' this next song to her."

It took a moment to register his comment and before she could, Jack was already playing something vaguely familiar and he and Race began singing.

_"Hey where did we go? / Days when the rains came..."_

Katherine felt her face flush a little as it dawned on her what song they were singing. She shook her head, pressing her hand to her warm cheek. She didn't think she'd heard this song since college; definitely hadn't had it sung to her since graduation night. 

Race  _would_ be that cheesy.

 _"You my... brown-eyed girl_ _..."_

They started in on the chorus—" _Sha la la la la..._ "—with Crutchie and Davey joining them from their end of the bar, and Katherine swore she could hear Spot humming next to her.

A verse later, and Smalls and Mush had joined in and Katherine was sure her face was as red as her hair. Even so, she couldn't deny the warm, bubbly feeling in her stomach.

" _...da da da..._ " There was far more applause than she expected at the song's end, coming from across the bar instead of just from her ridiculous boys, causing her to drop her head in her hands to hide her grin. 

"We love ya, Kathy," Race said into the microphone before setting it on top of the piano and making his way back to the bar.

Lifting her head from her hands, Katherine ducked under the bar top to meet him, hugging him and pecking his cheek. "Thank you," she said, arms tight around his neck.

Race shrugged. "That was all Jackie, should be thankin' him." He ducked behind her to talk to Spot, and she turned to raise an eyebrow at Jack.

He shrugged, looking a little self-conscious. Raising her bandaged hand to her chest, Katherine gave him a little smile and mouthed " _Thanks_."

Ducking his head a little, Jack broke the little spell, reaching over to pick up the the requests clipboard, shaking his head at the bright Post-it note stuck to the top.

"Okay, I get it," he said into the microphone, reading the sticky note. " _Bohemian Rhapsody_ won an Oscar. Please stop requestin' so many Queen songs—"

"IT WON FOUR, ASSHOLE," a voice yelled from the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost don't want to say the name of the first song because it start giving y'all ideas...
> 
> dskjfhsdkjfhsdkjfhsd between finals and life and everything (including a little dad drama of my own) this chapter took FOREVER to get up, I'm so sorry, piano man has NOT been abandoned!!
> 
> I'd love to know what you think!!
> 
> xx


	6. The One With the Homecoming Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this chapter's song!!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7STFm56KpuU) I don't typically go with songs where someone's singing, but this was my favorite one, so...... enjoy!

_Jack bounced on his toes, checking his phone as he waited on the sidewalk for the Uber._

_It’d be cheaper to take the subway, but right now it was all about getting out of town as fast as he could._

_Someone shoved him suddenly, and he whirled around to give them what-for, only to come face-to-face with Spot._

_“Spot—”_

_“What the fuck, Kelly?” he seethed. “You actually leavin’?”_

_Jack shook his head. “There ain’t nothin’ I can do here—”_

_Spot rolled his eyes. “What ‘bout bein’ there f’r Maggie? Ya fuckin’_ girlfriend _?”_

_“She ain’t my girlfriend an’ she don’t want me here any—” Jack tried, only for Spot to cut him off again._

_“Ya ever ask her if she wants ya?”_

_“Stop interruptin’ Conlon!” Jack scrubbed a hand over his_ _face. "What d'you even care f'r? Ya never liked Maggie all that much _—”__

_"You's a fuckin' coward, Kelly," Spot seethed. "An' I know you usually ain't, so tell me what's really happenin'."_

 

~*~

 

With a crash of the cymbals and a last note from Crutchie's guitar, the song ended to applause. “Alright, give it up f’r the boys in the band, Crutchie and Courf!” Jack said, gesturing to the boys behind him. "Don't ask me if that's their real names, 'cause they won't tell me. We's goin' on break, an' I'll be back to kick off karaoke in twenty minutes, so get'cha requests in on the sign-up sheet."

Katherine turned her attention from the makeshift stage to Angel, sitting at the bar, waiting for Spot to make her drinks. Medda's went big on theme nights. Besides the drum set and amp for Crutchie's guitar, colored strobe lights pulsed along the walls and little disco balls swirled on the tabletops. Decade-appropriate attire wasn't mandatory for entry, but, still, Medda's was a sea of big hair, neon mesh, sequins, and fringe.

(And only, like, half of that was just Race's costume)

"Love karaoke night," Spot said, rolling his eyes. "'Bout as much as I love fuckin' theme nights."

Angel raised a single eyebrow at him. "I see you put your usual care into it, _chato_ ," she said drily, looking at Spot's tshirt.

Spot flicked a dish towel at her. " _Breakfast Club_ is eighties,  _zorra_. Ain't breakin' the rules."

"What's so wrong with karaoke? I think it's fun."

"Look, I know you ain't been here since we started karaoke, bein' on that Princess Party Shit or whatever—"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I do, I see you lurking on Instagram, you—"

Their conversation descended into rapid-fire Spanish—mostly made up of insults, from what Katherine had picked up over the years—as Jack and Charlie approached the bar. "Uh, what's happenin' there?" Jack asked, climbing on a barstool. 

Katherine shrugged. "I took French in college. I know maybe three words in Spanish and they're all colors."

He waved a hand. "Oh, no, that I's heard before. I meant who's the girl Spot's yellin' at?"

"Oh," Katherine laughed. "I forgot, you haven't met Angel yet. She's been on tour."

"An' thank God she's back, 'cause Jojo an' Buttons is useless without her," Race said, shaking his head, causing glitter to rain down on the bar. 

"Tony, where the  _fuck—_ " Katherine swiped at the counter, trying to keep glitter from falling into the maraschino cherries. 

"Oh  _Angel_ ," Jack said. "Like a person."

Charlie huffed a laugh, accepting the beer Katherine handed him, once she had ensured that the cherries were glitter-free. "Yeah, s'short for Angelina... What was you thinkin'?"

Jack shrugged. "I dunno, like a nickname'r... they's been watchin'  _Good Omens_ again."

Katherine laughed, finally catching Angel's attention. "Angel, this is Jack Kelly, our new piano player. Jack, Angel Santa Cruz, resident celebrity."

He raised an eyebrow, sticking his hand out to shake. "Oh, a celebrity?"

Angel looked like she was about to start downplaying her "celebrity status", like she so often did with new people, before Katherine jumped in. "She's only been the leading role on Broadway. _T_ _wice_."

"Twice, huh? Hope you's signin' up f'r karaoke tonight, show these idiots how it's done."

"Oh, definitely. I hope you have Pat Benatar," Angel said. "Because I'm ready to rock 'Hit Me With Your Best Shot'."

"Anythin' f'r Miss Broadway Star," Jack agreed easily with a grin.

With a smile, Angel accepted the drinks from Spot and nimbly made her way through the crowded bar to the table where Jojo and Buttons sat.  

“Where’d you find the drummer? He’s pretty good,” Katherine asked, pouring a coffee for Jack. 

Jack jerked his head back to one of the corner booths. “One’a those college kids back there. Heard I was lookin’ an’ was excited to get up in front’a a crowd. An' eighties night called f'r an almost whole band.” Sighing, he stripped off the washed-out jean jacket he wore for his Bender costume. "S'too hot in here f'r all this."

"S'cute, though, you an' Kathy matchin'," Spot said drily.

Katherine turned her head sharply. "We're not—what? We're not matching, Spot."

He gestured to his shirt. "I gotcha on my shirt here. Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson, yeah?"

"Molly, yes. _Breakfast Club_ , no. Not matching."

"What's not matching?" Davey asked, approaching the bar.

"Me an' Kath," Jack said, clapping his shoulder as he sat next to he and Charlie. 

Davey narrowed his eyes a little, looking between Jack and Katherine. "Bender and Claire, right? From  _Breakfast Club_?"

Katherine groaned, turning away from him. "What are you drinking, David?"

"Uh, cherry Coke, please an' thank you."

She tossed him a look over her shoulder. "Yikes, a cherry Coke kind of day?"

He nodded, rubbing his temple. "Model U.N. practice went late."

"Uh-oh. Betta' make it a double, Kathy," Spot said, smirking.

“Oh, hey. Here.” Jack dropped an envelope in front of Davey. “‘Fore I forget.”

Davey took the envelope, turning it over. “What is it?”

“Rent f’r the last two weeks. I found a place. Movin' in over the weekend.”

“You... found a place?” Davey stared at the envelope like he was still trying to comprehend it.

“Well, yeah." Jack shrugged. "Can’t be sleepin’ on ya couch forever. S’too uncomfortable.”

“Where ya movin’ Jackie?” Race asked.

“Place over on Fourteenth. Older place, not far from NYU.”

Spot narrowed his eyes a little. “That’s not too far from Kathy’s place.” His tone was slightly more accusatory than Katherine thought necessary.

Jack looked slightly taken aback. “Yeah, she helped me find the place.”

Spot side-eyed her a moment before ducking down under the counter to reach for a knife. Katherine just barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was a little less open in his hostility lately, ever since Race, drunkenly, told him off for some comment, but subtlety had never been Spot's suit and it was starting to get annoying. He wouldn't tell her why he and Jack left things on a rocky note—rockier than the others, apparently—just made cryptic comments, or just stopped talking, whenever she asked. Katherine was starting to wonder if anything had actually happened. 

She shrugged. “I know someone who lives in the building. She said there was an empty apartment.”

“Hey! We gotta have a party!” Crutchie said suddenly, slapping Jack on the shoulder.

“A party?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah! A homecomin’ party!”

Jack chuckled. “Crutchie, I’s _been_ home over two months.”

“Yeah, but now ya gotta place an’ everythin’—Kath, think Medda’d let us use the bar?” Crutchie was practically vibrating against the bar.

Katherine grinned. “I can check the schedule, but I think we have an opening this weekend. The séance for Victor Hugo’s ghost was cancelled.”

Davey looked up sharply. “That’s a thing?”

“Oh, you have no idea the weird parties we’ve seen,” she said, rolling her eyes.

 

~*~

 

Jack looked up from his phone to see Davey approaching him with Race and Jojo. "I brought backup," he said by way of explanation.

"I see that," Jack said drily, pushing himself off his car to clap Jojo's shoulder and give him a hug. "Hey kid! Ain't hada chance to catch up wit'cha. Met'cha girl the other night. How the hell did you an' Buttons pull that off?"

"When we figure it out, we'll tell ya." Jojo said with a grin. "Nah, we met 'er in a show few years back. Three years later, we're still goin'."

"Good f'r you. Thanks f'r comin' guys. Warnin', it's a four-floor walk up an' I don't got any food or nothin' yet."

"An' that's my cue," Race said jokingly, spinning on his heel to leave.

"Yeah get outta here. Shoddy backup ya brought, Dave. Real backup woulda been Spot or Al, where're they?"

"Spotty couldn't come," Race said apologetically. "He, uh. Had a thing."

"Yeah, an' that thing's still hatin' me, eight years later." Jack said. "Know anythin' 'bout that?"

Race shrugged. "Somethin' 'bout when ya left? An' an ex-girlfriend? That's as much as I can get from him."

 _Ex-girlfriend..._ Jack shoved that thought away. He remembered the conversation he had with Spot about her when he left, but he couldn't understand what that had to do with why he was still mad. "What, uh. What 'bout Kath? She comin'?"

"She's on party duty with Crutchie and Albert," Davey said. 

"But don't worry," Race added with a shit-eating grin. "They're also on pizza duty, so she'll be by later."

Jojo's eyes went wide. "Oh, you an' Katherine—?"

"We're friends," Jack said, waving a hand. "An' f'r that, Racer, you get to put together all the furniture."

Race shrugged. "Hey, your funeral, Jackie. You know 'm shit at that."

Three hours later, they had everything of Jack's in the apartment and were working on getting Jack's pictures hung up and keyboard set up in the corner. He didn't have a lot, most had been left behind in New Mexico, and the rest he'd been bumming off Davey for the last couple months.

"Did you do this one?" Davey asked, looking down at the painting he was holding as Jack put a marked the wall for the nail.

He nodded, talking around the nail in his mouth. "Yeah. Don't gotta lot'a time for paintin', but that was one'a the last 'fore I left."

"I can't believe ya actually went to Santa Fe," Race said from his spot on the floor where he was attempting to fit together an IKEA table. "Thought that was, I dunno, a metaphor. Or somethin' they only did in musicals."

Jack shrugged, hanging up the painting. "I showed up at Grand Central an' there was a train headed there. Dunno, felt right." The door opened behind them, and he turned around to see Katherine stepping carefully through the crack.

"Door was open," Katherine said, balancing a six-pack and a soda on top of a stack of pizza boxes. "Jojo, I'm about to drop this, can you—?"

He jumped up to help her, taking the top box from her and setting it on the card table. "I thought Al an' Crutchie was with ya?"

She pushed her bangs off her face. "I had the easy job," she joked. "Al carried Charlie."

Albert appeared in the doorframe. "Thanks f'r the no-elevator warnin', Jackie," he huffed as he let Crutchie down, handing him his crutches.

"Everyone's focused on that," Jack complained as the other guys swarmed around Katherine to the pizza. "Why no 'congrats on the new apartment Jackie'?"

"Congrats on the new apartment Jackie," Katherine said, pointing at the stand his television sat on. "Do you know your TV's at a slant there?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Race did a shit job, didn't he?"

"Hey, it don't look that bad!" Race protested. "So ya gotta tilt ya head a bit, you too good f'r that, Kelly?"

"I can't believe how terrible it looks," Katherine laughed, settling on the floor next to Jack.

Race threw the pizza crust in his hand at her. "Are ya tryin' to hurt my feelin's? 'Cause it's workin'."

"Oh, you big baby." She threw a beer cap at him. Race ducked, however, and it smacked Jojo in the ear. He responded by chucking his pizza slice at Race before looking down, bewildered, at his hand.

"That was s'posed to be the plate," he said, sheepishly.

Katherine choked on her beer, leaning back against Jack's shoulder as she coughed out a laugh. Jack was knocked sideways into Crutchie before straightening, laughing at the baffled look on Jojo's face. 

It was a shitty apartment, not the worst he's ever lived, but a far cry from Medda's home growing up, on the smaller side, in an older building with, as mentioned, no elevator, and it was mostly empty except for the seven of them, packed in on his living room floor. And Jack couldn't quite figure it out, but almost three months after being in New York, and it was starting to finally feel like home again.

Davey shook his head. "Even on the weekend, I'm surrounded by children—"

He was promptly hit with six slices of pizza to the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a few of the jobs I've worked since becoming a banquet server:  
> *undercover narc cops  
> *drunk cowboys (and like... full corset-boots-hats-with-flowers costume, not a shitty jeans/plaid combo)  
> *a church group that was described to me as Catholics without a pope (who did the "peace be with you"/"and also with you")  
> *700 person Ukrainian/Romanian wedding  
> *Oscars watch-party where two (2) table's worth of lobster meals were auctioned off for several hundred dollars  
> *Democrats
> 
> .... I'm baffled and upset I've never been asked to serve at a seance.
> 
>  _Chato_ means "pug-nose", and _zorra_ translates to "fox", which typically is used to refer to girls who get around with guys, but depending on who's using it, can simply be a sassy term.
> 
> I'm still not entirely sure how many more chapters there are but I DO know that we're right around the halfway mark?? I think?? this was mostly a filler chapter that was pesky to write (because it wasn't in the original outline) and now that I'm all moved in hopefully posting can go back to semi-normal?? 
> 
> don't hold me to any of that, though ;)
> 
> I'd love to know what you think!!
> 
> xx
> 
> _hey! you may notice a link down at the bottom with 'works inspired by this one'!! "From Across the Bar" is the result of many, *many* conversations about Les Mis characters being in this au and Melissa actually wrote it!!! So click on it!!! read it!!! Because it's amazing and I cried, it's fine!_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [From Across the Bar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17531201) by [pennysparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennysparrow/pseuds/pennysparrow)




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